The Night the Lights Came Back On

He looks peaceful here.

The electric company would disagree.

Because some heroes restore faith. Others restore electricity.

It was another summer night with the power out — again. Central Hudson kept sending text updates, each one promising the lights would be back “soon.”

“Soon” kept getting later.

I don’t sleep well without a fan or white noise, so around 2:30 or 3:00 a.m., I gave up and went downstairs. Shamrock decided he needed to go out, so out we went.

What I didn’t know was that a Central Hudson truck was parked across the street, working on a light pole. Just like the night of the sign thieves, I hadn’t turned the outside lights on.

Shamrock saw the truck.

And went full wolfhound.

He streaked down the hill, tearing up tufts of sod in his wake, barking at full throttle. I heard three men yell. Someone swung the truck’s spotlight, and it hit Shamrock mid-stride — mouth open, spit flying, charging straight at them.

They had no idea he was going to stop at the electric fence.

I watched three grown men absolutely panic.

One shouted, “WHAT IN THE CRAP IS THAT?!”

Another scrambled into the truck yelling, “OH HECK NO!” and slammed the door.

The poor guy in the bucket ducked down so he couldn’t be seen — like Shamrock was about to sprout wings and fly up after him.

When Shamrock reached the fence line, he stopped running but started doing that furious “bunny hop,” still barking like the world was ending.

I heard one of the men say,

“I don’t get paid enough for this crap.”

The guy in the bucket yelled,

“Get control of your dog!”

I said calmly,

“He is under control.”

By then, I was laughing. I took hold of Shamrock’s collar and said quietly,

“Next time, get the lights back on when you promise to. If you had, this never would have happened.”

One of the men muttered something under his breath.

I said,

“Excuse me?”

And released Shamrock’s collar.

He charged forward again, barking like something out of folklore.

The driver immediately yelled,

“Apologize to the lady and shut up!”

From the bucket came a very small voice:

“I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“Apology accepted,” I said, and turned around to walk back up the hill with Shamrock at my side.

Behind us, I watched the guy climb down from the bucket. The driver took off his hat, smacked him, and said,

“You freaking idiot.”

And just like that…

the lights came back on.

Shamrock's turn:

I was told it was night.

Night means quiet.

Night means mine.

My human could not sleep because the sky-lights were broken.

So we went outside.

Then I saw it. A glowing metal beast with men on sticks touching the tall light-tree.

No pack.

No permission.

No warning.

I ran. The ground flew away under me. My voice came out as thunder.

Then…

SUN.

A white eye opened in the dark and found me mid-flight.

All four feet in the air. Mouth open. Spirit engaged.

The men screamed in different languages. One tried to hide inside the metal beast.

One tried to disappear into the sky. One said he did not earn this danger.

I hit the invisible wall - and bounced, and barked, and barked, and barked.,

The man in the sky yelled at my human.

My human said, “He is under control.”

Correct. She held my neck and whispered about broken sky-lights and promises.

One man spoke foolishly.

My human said a small word: “Excuse me?”

I was released. I ran again.

The leader-man made the others apologize.

I accepted the apology because my human accepted it.

Then we left.

Behind us, the men argued and struck each other with hats.

The sky-lights came back on.

Balance was restored.

-------------

Shamrock:

part wolfhound,

part justice system,

part after-hours customer service.